


Sacrosanct

by emeraldmad



Category: 1917 (Movie 2019)
Genre: First Kiss, Fluff, Friends to Lovers, Friendship/Love, Inspired by Poetry, Love Confessions, M/M, Mutual Pining, Poetry, Pre-Canon, Slash, Sunsets, Tenderness, Tooth-Rotting Fluff, soft
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-02-07
Updated: 2020-02-07
Packaged: 2021-02-28 05:34:44
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,148
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22578667
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/emeraldmad/pseuds/emeraldmad
Summary: Lance Corporal William Schofield is one of Blake’s favorite people in the world, right after his mum and his brother, Joe. He’s fascinating—a mystery he wants to unravel. He wants to study him, learn to read between his lines, to crawl up into the cracks on his skin and gaze upon his heart.He might be getting himself in trouble, wanting to figure Schofield out.
Relationships: Tom Blake/William Schofield
Comments: 6
Kudos: 162





	Sacrosanct

He finds Schofield a few many yards away from the camp, sat against a tree in the middle of the field and facing the setting sun. He looks calm, impassible, and Blake almost feels like leaving him alone as he walks up to the tree. 

“What’s your thing, Scho?”

Lance Corporal William Schofield is one of Blake’s favorite people in the world, right after his mum and his brother, Joe. He’s fascinating—a mystery he wants to unravel. He wants to study him, to learn to read between his lines, to crawl up into the cracks on his skin and gaze upon his heart.

He might be getting himself in trouble, wanting to figure Schofield out. 

Will looks at him from below as he sits down beside him. “My thing?”

And there’s why—Schofield’s always interested in what he has to say. He doesn’t necessarily answer every time, but Blake can tell he’s always listening. Schofield pays attention to him as if he’s trying to figure Blake out as well.

“Everyone has something they like, what they’re passionate about.” His mum had her gardening, Joe had a skill for sculpting wood, his childhood best friend could draw the best landscapes. Knowing someone’s thing was an open door to who they were, and Blake wants to know Schofield like a star-filled sky.

A beat. Schofield raises an eyebrow at him. “Can I ask what’s yours?”

“Singing. Haven’t done it in a while, though,” he says, staring briefly towards the field before looking back to his mate. They haven’t heard music in so long he’s forgotten what it’s like to enjoy it over silence. “So?”

Scho sighs beside him, looking down at his hands as he toys with the hem of his coat. “Poetry. I was studying Literature in London when I enlisted.”

Flashes of a small, worn-down leather notebook in Will’s hands come to him and Blake takes a moment to process, not having expected any less from his friend. “Do you know any?”

“By memory? Yeah, a few of my favorites.”

Blake falls just a little bit more. “Care to recite some for me?”

“Alright,” Schofield smiles just slightly, almost melancholic. “What are you feeling? Sadness, elation, romance?”

He thinks about it for a second. He doesn’t want to make the choice, he wants to hear what Schofield’s heart wants to let out. “No, no. Give me something you like.”

Scho seems to weigh it out for a second, as if browsing in the library of his mind for something worthwhile, and Blake waits it out. Finally, Scho looks down at his hands again and breathes in. 

_“The night is darkening round me,_

_The wild winds coldly blow;_

_But a tyrant spell has bound me,_

_And I cannot, cannot go.”_

Blake is entranced in Schofield’s voice, his presence. 

_“The giant trees are bending_

_Their bare boughs weighed with snow;_

_The storm is fast descending,_

_And yet I cannot go.”_

The way Schofield looks out past his knees to the vast field before them, the movement of his lips as the words slowly come out—it’s both what he was looking for and maybe too much.

_“Clouds beyond clouds above me,_

_Wastes beyond wastes below;_

_But nothing drear can move me;_

_I will not, cannot go.”_

He feels like he’s seen more of Schofield than he’s supposed to, and he doesn’t know how he feels about it, except that he can’t get enough of him. A dangerous, dangerous path to take.

The sun’s going down in front of them in a mix of red and orange and yellow, and the warm light accentuates his features most to Blake’s demise. Schofield looks at Blake, hesitant and shy, waiting for a reaction. 

“So?”

A beat. He struggles to bring the words out, still caught on the edge of Schofield’s jaw. “Who’s that?”

“Emily Brontë, _The night is darkening round me_.”

He smiles. “Why’d you pick it?”

Schofield seems to chuckle to himself, low and warm. “Seemed fitting. The determination, the persistence—it reminded me of you.”

That’s what does it for Blake; _‘it reminded me of you’_ , the fond smile, the tender look in Schofield’s eyes as he says it—it’s more than he can take. Schofield can be oddly romantic at times, unknowingly so, but this felt so deliberate, so _real_.

He tries to answer, even stumbles out a _“Will”_ before he throws it over the border, useless. In turn, at his lack of words, he chooses to go for Schofield’s uniform and pull him in for a kiss. 

It’s clumsy, fogged over with slight desperation and fondness, drowned in legitimate yearning. The last piece of Schofield’s puzzle is in the connection of their lips, and Blake seizes it fervently and completes the image in his mind. 

And Will Schofield is soft—his lips are soft, the skin on his neck and jaw is soft, his touch is soft. All of Blake begs for him closer, _closer_ , and Will brings him so without a word. The puzzles are put together, and they are both laid bare to each other. As close as it can get to heaven in the middle of a war.

When Will pulls apart Blake feels as if he’s about to faint. He feels dizzy, consumed by the feeling of Will’s fingers on his skin, skimming over the edge of his cheekbones and down to his lips in a dangerous journey. It’s as though this has been simmering for days, years, coming closer and closer until words are not enough. Until this sacred, blessed thing happens.

And then Will chuckles, pure and unbridled joy. “Tom.”

He blinks. “Hm?”

“You look like you’re going to pass out, are you okay?” Despite the concern, Will’s expression never drops the smile. Blake wouldn’t want that for the world. 

He smiles, apologetic. “I am, sorry. Got a bit carried away there, that’s all.”

“I could tell,” Schofield retorts, his eyes still the holy image of mirth. “Might have to stop, wouldn’t want you to faint.”

Schofield’s tease only makes him smile wider. “What? No! I can—”

Will doesn’t let him finish and kisses him again, and Blake promptly melts into his touch. Will’s hands are warm, slender and heavy with the weight of war, but against his skin they seem the most heavenly thing to ever grace him. His mind is racing, his heart beating out of his chest, and the feeling of Will’s hair tangled in his fingers fills his chest with something warm, something bright and sacred that can only belong to him.

When they come apart again, breathless and thoroughly messed by roaming hands, Will presses their foreheads together and looks up with his deepest-blue eyes, gifting him an amused smile.

“You do realize you’ll have to sing to me sometime, right?”

Blake laughs, kisses Will again, nods against the other. 

“Anytime,” he says, opening his heart. “ _Anything_.”

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you so much for reading! I finished writing this at 2 am last night and I'm so so proud of it, it's probably my favorite thing I've ever written. 1917 has become my favorite movie and I loved it so much, I just knew I had to write something for these two because they're absolutely in love. Definitely expect me to keep writing about them soon.
> 
> Again, the poem Scho recites is 'The night is darkening round me' by Emily Bronte. I was looking for a poem to use in this and when I found it I knew it was perfect, it fits with them both so well. 
> 
> If you wanna talk about Scho and Blake or just the movie in general you can find me under the same handle on Tumblr. Kudos and comments are greatly appreciated!


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